


Quiver Dance

by deepestfathoms



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Anne and Aragon are the best mother duo change my mind, Art, Courtney!Anne, Dizzy spells, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fainting, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Loneliness, Maternal Instinct, Not Beta Read, Painting, Panic Attacks, but it's definitely something, can be read as Aralyn, i couldnt think of a title so it's a Pokémon move, i don’t know if it’s a panic attack exactly, there are definitely typos but I’m lazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24264706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepestfathoms/pseuds/deepestfathoms
Summary: Anne and Aragon decide to stay for tea, despite their plans with the other queens.
Kudos: 34





	Quiver Dance

**Author's Note:**

> (Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

“I still don’t know why we ALL have to get out of the car for a few pieces of paper.” Jane said with her arms crossed over her chest.

“You didn’t have to come.” Aragon reminded her as she knocked on the apartment’s front door. “You could have stayed in and waited for us.”

“Well,” Jane sighed. “I’m out now. Let’s just hurry so we don’t miss the movie.”

“It won’t take long,” Cathy said, then, a moment later, the door opened.

“Ah! There you guys are!” Joan beamed at them. She was clad in grey sweatpants and a T-shirt with a goat on it that said, “You goat to be kidding me.” Her hair wasn’t as tamed as it usually was, with a cowlick sticking awkwardly from the top of her head, and she also didn’t have any makeup on. Large, round rose gold glasses were set on her nose, possibly to try and distract wandering gazes from the deep, dark hollows under her stormy eyes. 

“Come in! Come in!” She beckoned them.

Joan’s apartment was rather simple- there was a small laundry room in the front hallway, then the living and dining room and kitchen just through the same corridor. There were four other doors: an extra room, a guest bathroom, the porch/balcony, and then the master bedroom. Most of the drawers, cabinets, end tables, and shelves were bare of decorations and pictures, rather becoming the podiums for small canvases, potted plants, and wooden carvings. A candle that smelled of vanilla and roasted nuts flickered quietly on the kitchen counter.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses.” Cleves observed.

“Oh,” Joan pushed up her glasses, as if to remind herself that she even still had them on. “Yeah. I guess you haven’t seen them before, huh? I usually wear my contacts when out of the house.”

“Did you make all of these?” Cathy asked, gazing around the apartment. “The statues, I mean.”

Joan looks excited that someone noticed the figurines. Her feet shuffle happily for a moment as a blissful smile grows on her lips.

“Yes!” She said. “I usually just carve them out of random branches, but sometimes I’ll buy actual logs. Now THAT makes a mess because of all the chips, but bigger statues come out of them!” She waved at a large carving of a throne with intricate swirls and spirals running down the sides. It must have taken forever to scratch away at to make it look so perfect. “I can also do soap! Anyway, this is my favorite.” She held up a dragon made of pale wood. There were a few strings of beads strewn around the neck and wings. “They’re kinda like my friends, I guess. Nobody to talk to so I make my own! They’re better company than you would think.”

“The papers, Joan.” Jane said, snapping her fingers impatiently.

“We have a movie we got tickets for.” Kitty added, although less demanding as the silver queen’s comment.

“Oh! Right! What movie? Also, do you want tea?” Joan said. “Man, I can finally make tea! I never drink any. Caffeine addiction. Haha. Anyway, what kind do you want? Also what color cup? I can only drink tea out of this light blue cup. Don’t know what’s that about.” She laughed.

“Oh, no thank you,” Aragon said politely.

“We don’t have time, Joan. We told you we have plans.” Jane said a lot less politely.

“Really?” Joan said with a wistful look. “It won’t take long. I even have honey!”

“No, sorry.” Cathy said.

Joan frowned and stopped rooting through her kitchen cabinets. She awkwardly rubbed her palms against her sweatpants.

“Right. Of course. Sorry.” She said. “What was I getting again?”

“The papers!” Kitty snapped exasperatedly.

“Oh yeah! Stay here.”

Joan scampered past them and disappeared into the room next to the guest bathroom. She strangely closes the door behind her, so the queens are left unsupervised in the living area of the flat. 

Jane impatiently checked her watch, realized she didn’t wear a watch, then snagged out her phone to check the time on that. Kitty took her phone out, too, to try and entertain herself, as it appeared that Joan would take a few moments since they could all hear her rooting around in the extra room loudly. The other four went to inspect the unique decorations filling the place.

“She really made these?” Aragon said more to herself than to the others. She was delicately running her thumb over the spikes of a wooden hedgehog.

“It’s pretty cool,” Cleves admitted, setting down a craggy oak crown. “I’d never have the patience to have this as a hobby, though.”

“Agreed,” Cathy said.

“Really?” Anne looked over at her. “This is too much, but slaving yourself over a whole book isn’t?”

“Writing is one thing,” Cathy said. “Carving little details into wood is a whole different story. One that I’m not willing to write.”

“Nice one.” Cleves appraised.

“Thank you!”

“God, what’s taking her so long?” Jane growled.

“You can wait a moment,” Aragon said.

“Yeah, being in here isn’t going to poison you or something.” Anne added. Jane rolled her eyes at her.

“I don’t like being late. Also WHAT IS THAT.”

They all turned to see a patchy black and white cat lazily strolling out of the master bedroom. It looked like it had been run over, dismembered, and then put back together with several other feline parts, but it held itself like it was the most pristine lion to ever walk the earth. It glanced over at the queens, meowed at them, then continued on its stroll to the food as water bowls set up by the back door.

“It’s a cat, dumbass.” Anne said, earning a snort from Aragon and then a glare from Jane.

“It’s not funny.” Aragon said quickly after Jane glared at her, too, but it was obvious she wasn’t threatened by the silver queen at all. 

“Tea Cake is a cat,” Jane said, referring to their pet. “THAT is an overgrown street rat.”

“Well, one could assume the same about you, but you don’t see us pointing it out.” Anne said deftly, dodging the livid daggers Jane shoots at her as she walks over to the cat.

“Should have stayed in the car.” Aragon shrugged when Jane gave her a ‘are you going to let her talk to me like that?’ look.

“Can we stop fighting?” Kitty asked. She grabbed Jane’s hand and smiled at the woman, essentially letting her know that SHE didn’t think she was an overgrown street rat. Jane smiled back at her.

“Yes, let’s.” Cathy said. She had been skillfully ignoring the bickering by putting all her attention on a watercolor painting of a flock of sheep in a field of yellow and red tulips.

“We’re not-” Anne began, but she was cut off when the door to the extra room burst open and Joan stumbled out like her foot was caught on something.

“I found them!” Joan shouted, waving a folder in the air. 

“Took you long enough,” Jane grumbled, taking it from her.

“Sorry,” Joan gave her a sheepish smile. “Kinda lost them in my things.”

“And here I thought you were all about order and tidiness.” Cleves chuckled.

Joan looked a touch embarrassed. “W-well I—” She opened and closed her fists in the air, like she was grasping for floating words to fill her sentence with. “Sometimes things get messy. Everything gets messy! Anyway. I see you’ve met Whatever!”

“What?” Cathy blinked at her.

Joan padded over to the cat Anne had been petting. It looked up at her and rubbed against her knees when she crouched down.

“This is Whatever! I got her from the pound. Could you believe they were about to put her down? I adopted her just in time.” Joan said. “Oh, and her name is Whatever because I couldn’t think of a name so I asked one of the stagehands and they just said ‘whatever.’ And so! The title was born!” She beamed proudly.

“That’s adorable.” Anne said, which made a bright red blush flame on Joan’s face.

“Oh, yeah, cool.” Jane said. “We gotta go.”

“She’s right,” Cleves nodded, glancing at the time set below the TV. “The movie starts in thirty minutes.”

“And the theatre is twenty minutes away.” Jane said ruefully.

“We’ll make it,” Aragon said. “Come on, everyone.”

Joan stood up, watching them all bustle towards the front door. As Anne was pulling on her coat from its hook, she saw her open her mouth to say something, but close it after presumably changing her mind. From her angle, the girl didn’t just look lonely, she also looked very sad.

“I think I’m gonna stay.”

The words came flooding out of her mouth before she could even think about what she was saying. The others looked back at her in confusion.

“What?” Cleves tilted her head.

“I’m gonna stay. With Joan.” Anne said again, this time knowing what she wanted. 

“We already bought the tickets.” Jane said.

“My wallet’s in the car,” Anne responded smoothly. “Take some money out and buy any snacks with that. It should be enough to pay back the ticket.”

“I’ll stay, too,” Aragon said, and Anne gave her a pleasantly surprised look. Jane, on the other hand, looks quite ruffled. Kitty seemed a bit upset that her cousin wasn’t going.

“But—” Jane closed her mouth, and Anne was sure she was grinding her teeth. “Oh, fine!”

“I’m gonna make you watch the movie with me when it comes out on Amazon, though,” Kitty said to Anne, who laughed and nodded.

“Sounds like a plan!” Anne said. “Have fun!”

The front door closes. Anne gave Aragon a smile before they both turned to Joan, whose eyes were wide and sparkling. It’s clear she has never been chosen over something else before.

“I’ll make the tea!” She said, scrambling for her kettle. 

Aragon and Anne walked over and took a seat at two of the bar stools at the kitchen counter. They watched as Joan hurried about the kitchen, filling a teapot with water and then setting it on the heating stove before rooting around for some cups in one of her cabinets.

“This is so nice of you guys to do,” Her muffled voice said. “I don’t think I’ve ever had visitors stay over. Oh, this’ll be so fun!”

That made Aragon and Anne exchange looks. They knew Joan was lonely, but surely she had other friends to hang out with...

“Oh, no,” Joan said when she’s asked about that. She doesn’t seem bothered by the question, like she had accepted her isolation a long time ago. “It’s a little hard to make friends. Trust me, I’ve tried. People don’t like when random strangers try to strike up conversation with them at the park or on the street, and everyone at the bar either wants to get in your pants or get free drinks off of you. So, uhh...no. No friends. I mean, aside from my carvings! And Whatever!”

The pair of queens glance at each other again, this time with much more concern. 

Poor lonely girl, Anne thought with a frown.

“I’m sorry.” Aragon said.

“Don’t apologize,” Joan assured her. “No fault of her own. Peter always told me I wasn’t very likable. Which is weird. Why’d he marry me if I wasn’t likable? Seems like the joke’s on him! Haha!” She suddenly pulled back from the cabinet holding three mugs- one light blue, one yellow, and one black. “I tried to stick with your colors, but I don’t have a green cup for some reason. I’ll have to get one. For if you ever come back!” 

“Peter is your husband?” Aragon asked.

“WAS my husband.” Joan said. “But yeah. I don’t know WHY we even got married, though. We hated each other. Always fighting. It was a mess.” She whirled around to the stove before she could see the queen’s reaction to her past marriage issues. “I think the water is almost done. That was fast! See, the others could have had some tea before they had to leave. Oh! I’ll get something for you guys to eat, too!”

Joan was going at a million miles a minute. It was obvious she was nervous about Aragon and Anne leaving, so she was doing her best to be hospitable, but also try to get everything she’s ever wanted to do with other people when they were at her house done.

After digging around in her fridge, she produced a small watermelon, then hobbled over to the pantry with it still in her arms and grabbed some crackers. She set both food items on the counter beside the stove, but then almost instantly changed the position of the crackers to be in front of Aragon and Anne. She added a tin of biscuits to their space, too. 

“Does watermelon go with tea?” She asked as she was taking out a cutting board and large knife. “Hm. Hopefully it does. I’ll have to get more tea-appropriate snacks soon.”

“Watermelon is good,” Anne assured her, and Joan shot her a gleeful smile.

“So, what movie were you supposed to go watch?” Joan asked, not stopping her process of chopping and peeling and preparing to look over at her guests.

“Frozen 2.” Aragon answered. 

“Ohhh, I heard that was good. Sorry I’m keeping you from watching it.”

“No, it’s alright!” Anne quickly said, noticing Joan’s shoulders droop with guilt. “Remember, we offered to stay. We want to be here.”

“With me.” Joan said quietly to herself. Her smile returned. “I’m glad! And, hey, maybe we can watch a movie if you want?”

“That sounds wonderful, Joan.” Aragon said. Joan beamed again.

“Yay! Oh, the tea—!!”

Joan scrambled over to the screeching kettle and turned off the stove. She picked up a small glass jar sitting beside the salt and pepper shakers and put three tea leaves in each of the cups, then poured the hot water over them. She set the yellow and black cups in front of Aragon and Anne.

“The honey!” She said gleefully, holding up a white jar. She adds two scoops with a tiny spoon to her cup, then offers it to the queens. For some reason, they were staring strangely at their mugs. “What’s wrong?”

“Joan, baby,” Aragon said gently. “That’s not how you make tea.”

“This is just leaf water.” Anne added.

Joan blinked at them over the cup she had to her lips. She placed it back on the counter.

“Oh.” She said. “THAT’S why it always tasted so leafy.”

Anne and Aragon both burst into laughter. Pink dusted Joan’s already-fuchsia cheeks, but she found herself giggling, too.

“You are just too cute.” Anne said, and pink quickly turned to raging red. 

“Let me try again,” Joan said. She gathered the queen’s cups and dumped their contents out in the sink, but kept her own. She took another sip as she walked over to the watermelon to finish preparing it, but stumbled slightly.

“Joan?” Anne called out. She watched as the girl reached one hand out to the counter to seemingly brace herself on. “Joan!!”

The cutting board Joan had placed her hand upon flips and Joan’s elbow buckled. Her knees soon followed; the girl was on the ground, her cup of leaf water shattered and spilled out on the floor beside her and the watermelon pieces splattered on her face and torso. 

“JOAN!!”

Anne and Aragon are out of there seats in an instant, so fast that Aragon’s stool even clatters to the ground and sends Whatever sprinting across the apartment in shock at the resounding crash it made.

“Joan? Joan, can you hear me?” Anne said, knelt down next to the girl. On the other side, Aragon is feeling her cheeks and forehead through the mess of watermelon juice dripping from her face.

“I don’t think she’s running a fever...” Aragon said grimly. “I think she fainted.”

“Oh god,” Anne murmured. “How long do you think she’s been like this? Sick, I mean. Why else would she just randomly conk out?”

“I— I don’t know.” Aragon said. She suddenly shot to her feet so fast that Anne was slightly startled and snatched a rag from a drawer after opening a closing a few. She wets it with the hot water from the kettle, seeing as anymore tea wouldn’t be made anytime soon, and returned to the fallen music director’s side.

“What are you doing?” Anne asked. “Actually— Don’t answer that. I know now.”

Aragon snorted lightly as she was gently wiping off the juice on Joan’s face. She took a moment to examine her soft features up close- her porcelain skin, the constellation of freckles over her nose, the rose gold glasses she apparently didn’t like wearing in public, the blue-black bags under her eyes. Joan looked so young beneath her, so vulnerable and helpless.

“Do you think it’s a bug?” Anne asked.

“I don’t know.” Aragon answered. “Maybe over exertion? Or sleep deprivation. Poor thing always looks so tired...”

Anne nodded grimly in agreement. She watched as Aragon wiped down Joan’s face in silence for a moment. When she went to speak up again, their patient stirred from her unconsciousness.

“Joan?” Anne said. “Joan, can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up?”

“She fainted, dummy.” Aragon said. “She doesn’t have a concussion.”

“She could have hit her head on the way down.” Anne snapped. Then, to Joan, “It was four, by the way.”

Joan moaned weakly in response, a pitiful, dying-baby-lamb sort of noise that wrenched the queen’s heart. Her head lolled back and forth on the floor for a moment, as if she were trying to return feeling in her neck, then her soft, timid, really cute grey eyes fluttered opened. And then she screamed.

Aragon and Anne screamed, too. 

Joan scuttled backward, her left hand sliding in the pool of leaf water that had accumulated on the floor and just barely missing a sinister shard of light blue glass. She stared at the pair of queens reaching out to her in fear for a moment, then blinked and furrowed her eyebrows. She squinted at them, as if her glasses were suddenly not working.

“Wait— Catherine? Anne?” She looked around. “Am I dreaming still?”

“No, Joan.” Anne said.

“You fainted.” Aragon added.

Joan blinked again. She looked at the broken glass and spilled wannabe tea and the leaf floating in that puddle, then at the chunks of watermelon scattered on the floor where she had been laying.

“OH!” She finally said. “Oh right! I was making tea, wasn’t I? Wait, no— I was getting the watermelon!” She cast a mournful glance back at the wasted fruit. “Oh dear. That’s not good.”

“Joan, you /fainted/.” Aragon said again, this time much more firmly. “Are you alright? Are you sick or hurt?”

“I’m fine.” Joan said. “I mean, my hair is a little messed up, but what else is new? But—yeah. I’m fine. I’m okay.”

Despite what she said, she struggles to her feet, so Anne quickly steps over the glass and tea to assist her.

“What happened?” She asked as she was steadying Joan. She swore the girl was trembling slightly beneath her hands.

“Dizzy spell,” Joan said cooly. “They’re normal. I mean— Not normal-normal. They don’t happen every day, 24/7. Just sometimes. Nothing to worry about.”

“That is very worrying.” Anne said.

“Yeah, EXTREMELY worrying!” Aragon added, jumping to her feet.

“Not really.” Joan said. “Do you still want tea?” She turned to the kettle, but Aragon leapt over the sea of glass and leaf water and grabbed her shoulders.

“I want to make sure you’re okay.” Aragon said firmly, shaking Joan slightly. Joan seemed a little dazzled to be touched by the queen and latched onto her elbows for some sort of grounding. She blinked up at her with those sheep eyes of hers.

“I’m okay.” She said. “See? I just made sure for you. So, how do you make tea properly?”

“Joan.” Aragon tried again. She moved her hands to cup Joan’s cheeks- they’re a little sticky beneath her palms from the juice that had been plastered over them. “I know what you’re trying to do, okay? You’re trying to blow off your own health and need to make sure we’re happy. And I want you to stop. If you’re unwell, you need to tell us. We’re not going to run out on you, alright? We’ll help you.”

Joan just stared at her with wide eyes for a long moment, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Her cheeks heat up slowly beneath Aragon’s palms; she’s clearly flustered about being called out.

“I’m fine.” She finally said. “I told you. I’m okay.” Then, before anyone can say anything else, she hurriedly sputters out, “Please don’t be mad!”

“We’re not mad.” Anne assured her. “Just worried.”

“Yes,” Aragon nodded, although her mind seemed elsewhere. Her arms drop back to her sides. “I’m glad you’re okay. But PLEASE give us a warning about these dizzy spells next time. You scared the heavens out of me!”

“Good going, Joan!” Anne cried. “She’s not Catholic anymore! Who else will make us go to church every Sunday?!”

Joan giggled and Aragon elbowed Anne playfully.

After cleaning up the mess on the floor, Aragon teaches Joan how to properly make tea (“You had tea bags but never thought to ever maybe put them in the kettle instead of leaves?” “I am not as smart as I make myself out to be.”) while Anne watches and secretly takes pictures. When the chamomile tea is done, Joan still adds several scoops of honey to her cup, apparently thinking the leaf water was better than the properly made drink. Aragon and Anne laugh at this, thinking the exact same thing: /Cute/.

“Oh! Oh!” Joan perked up excitedly. “Before we watch the movie, can I show you guys my art room?”

“Art room?” Anne echoed curiously.

Joan finished off her tea, set the mug in the sink, and then bounded over to the door she had entered earlier to get the folder. She kept bouncing up and down, waving Aragon and Anne over excitedly, and didn’t stop until they were in front of her. Then, she whirled around and threw open the door.

The room was a jungle of colors—literally. The walls were painted to look like a active rainforest- lush, towering trees with vines that wound around their bodies like earthly scarves, birds every color of the rainbow perching on nimble branches, parrot green and sun yellow and sky blue and bright pink flowers sprouting like starbursts across the forest, a group of capybaras frozen in a forever family portrait, there was even a jaguar lounging up in a tree near the ceiling. And, speaking of the ceiling, it was all dressed up, too, painted to look like a night sky full of glittering silver stars.

But it wasn’t just the walls that were done up- the entire room was very artsy.

Art supplies were tucked into every possible nook and cranny: brushes, pencils and markers and pens, all colors of paint, blank papers, clay for sculpting, wood and glass and metal and beads. A desk covered in wood chips (and a single blunt knife) sat against the wall right below a peeping tawny spider monkey—it seemed to be set up to make it seem like the animal was watching whatever was being made or drawn. A loom was in the corner where a tapestry had already been half finished and then presumably abandoned. Clever little wooden figures with beads or tiny balls of colored clay for eyes were sitting on IKEA shelves that had been painted and carved away by Joan to look like branches and brambles to match the jungle environment. In the far corner, furthest away from the wall with the bathroom and exit door, a strange snarl of metalwork lay patiently on the floor (which was permanently stained by paint), waiting to be worked on again. It was made of copper wire and steel strings and what even looked like salvaged barbed wire. A candle that smelled of freshly picked apples was lit at the table.

“Oh my god,” Anne muttered, taking in the sight. Beside her, Aragon was much too awestruck to comment. “Joan, did you paint all of this?”

“Yup!” Joan puffed her chest out proudly, absolutely radiating with glee and excitement. “I have a LOT of time on my hands when I don’t stress over the show. That’s why I started painting the walls in the first place. To get my mind off of my anxiety from being a music director.”

Anne felt a swell of happiness inside of her. Joan had found a really healthy way to cope with her anxiety without any help. It made her so proud.

“This is absolutely beautiful,” Aragon finally said. She carefully touched one of the shelves. “You even carved the shelves!”

“Indeed!” Joan grinned. “Okay, so that’s Fearless.” She pointed to the spider monkey over the desk, then to the family of capybaras. “These are Saber and Silver and their lesbian mums, Copper and Strawberry. That iguana up on that branch is Talen-Jei. The birds are Jade, Winter, Onyx, Changbai, Mischief, Mayhem, Boto, Coconut, Thrush, Pyrite, Alba, Arid, Ermine, Dazzling, Princess, Queenie, Quartz, Zebbie, Sora, Luo, AND Bebe!” She spun around to gesture to a kinkajou that had been painted to look like it was standing on the doorframe. “That’s Pompeii. And that is Sepia.” She nods as a hulking gorilla near the loom, and then an elephant peering through the thicket. “That’s Tiny. And the jaguar is SheBeast!”

“You named the animals,” Anne said. “That is so cute!”

Joan blushed. “Thank you.”

“What’s that?” Aragon asked, looking at the pile of metal in the corner. Joan’s eyes widened and she snatched a sheet that was bundled under the window. She quickly threw it over the mess.

“Don’t look! It’s not ready yet!” She turned to them after making sure the metal was completely concealed. “It’s going to be a sculpture for the show. To put in the lobby. But that’s all I can tell you!”

Anne and Aragon exchanged smiles.

“I can’t wait,” Aragon said to Joan, who claps her hands happily.

“I’m glad! It’s gonna he super cool, I promise!” She looked around, then grabbed an extra easel she had folded against the wall and set it up next to the one that was already standing. “Wanna paint? Can we paint together?”

“I don’t see why not,” Anne said.

Joan made a happy squealing sound and grabbed three canvases. She set two up on the easels, then picked out a large selection of paints and brushes and placed them on a standup table between the two of them. After picking out a few colors and four brushes for herself, she flopped down onto a beanbag right by the window and immediately got to work. Anne and Aragon observed her for a moment- she almost looked the same way she did when she was doing MD work, but significantly more happy and relaxed.

“I don’t know how you expect us to top any of this,” Aragon said, making a wide gesture to the painted walls with both arms. Joan giggled.

“That’s okay,” She said, then got back to painting.

Anne picked up a random paintbrush- one with a thin tip- then dipped it into the black paint and began to paint...something. She wasn’t quite sure yet. All she knew is that it had a very round head. At least, she thinks the thing now on her canvas was a head. 

“How did you do it?” Aragon asked. She was still trying to decide what paintbrush she wanted to use. “Do the walls like this, I mean.”

“Well, first I drew on them with pencil.” Joan said, skillfully talking and painting at the same time without missing a beat. “That took me a few days. Once the sketches were finished, I painted over them. Now THAT took me two weeks. The ceiling only took me a day and several hours into the night only because I had to constantly move around the chair I was on.” She paused. “Spent two hours at the local Home Depot picking out thirty cans of paint and I didn’t even think to buy a ladder.”

“THIRTY?!” Aragon shot her a wide-eyed look.

Joan laughed. “Yup! I spent my entire work check on supplies. I barely scraped enough left over money to buy food!” She laughed again, but Anne and Aragon just looked concerned at that.

“You have to eat, honey.” Anne said.

Joan sighed heavily and stabbed her brush into a nearby jar of blue paint.

“I know, I know,” She said. “I lost A LOT of weight during that month when I was working on all this. I don’t think I even have it all back...”

“How much do you weigh?” Aragon asked.

“If you tell me your weight, I’ll tell you mine.” Joan said, then laughed. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding. I weighed 104, I think? And I weigh, I dunno, 112, 114 now?” She shrugged as if that was the normal weight for a girl her age.

Anne and Aragon exchanged worried looks over their canvases. Joan didn’t see because she was too invested in whatever she was making on her own.

They painted in silence for a while.

“Joan,” Anne finally said. “What was your childhood like?”

Joan looked up, startled. She blinked at the queen for a moment before she realized she was dripping cerulean paint all over her pants. She hissed softly and swiped at the splatters, realized she just made the stains worse by smearing it, then gave up. She looked back up at Anne with a frown.

“Why?” She asked suspiciously.

“Just curious.” Anne holds her hands up, and a blob of green goes flying from her paintbrush. “I knew most of the backgrounds of my workers. But not you.”

Joan was like a locked diary with a missing key, and Anne so desperately wanted to open her up and read through her memories and thoughts and feelings. She knew Aragon would read over her shoulder as she did so.

“I don’t remember the names of my parents.” Joan said, turning her attention back to her canvas. “But they worked for Thomas Cromwell. Can’t remember what they did exactly. It doesn’t matter, though. Like I care about them. They’re just slippery weasels that never gave a shit about me or my brother.”

“What do you mean?” Aragon asked.

“They left.” Joan said bitterly. Her eyes looked very dark when she glanced over the top of her canvas at Aragon. “I was ten? Eleven? Doesn’t matter. They ran off and left me and John alone. Never saw them again.”

“Oh... I’m sorry, Joan.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re not my mum or dad, so I don’t want to hear it from you.” Joan said. “Anyway. John and I wandered the street for a while. We hopped from house to house where other family members lived until I wound up at court.” She shrugged. “It’s not very eventful. None of history remembers it. Hell, I barely do. It’s just—not important.”

A solemn look casts over her eyes, turning them from an ocean grey-green shade to a dark hurricane color. She sighed and shook her head.

“Anyway. Umm. That’s it.” She looked a little uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Like I said, not important.”

Anne and Aragon frowned at each other. Joan noticed it this time because she was washing off her brush to switch colors, but she doesn’t say anything. She simply looked back down at her canvas and started adding small red details with a thin brush.

“What about you?” She spoke again. “Aragon, didn’t you fight a battle while pregnant?”

Aragon smirked, looking pleased with herself.

“Indeed I did.” She said. She didn’t get to tell the story, however, because Anne suddenly made a weird, woeful noise in front of her.

Joan set her canvas on the floor and got up to go see what the green queen had done, and Aragon could see that she had painted a ewe with the head of a screaming woman being eaten by wasps. She shivered.

“What’s this?” Joan asked as politely as possible. Aragon joined them in front of Anne’s easel and gawked at the mess of black and green on the canvas.

“Is it a scorpion?” She guessed.

“Monkey?” Joan tried.

“I think it’s supposed to be a cat?” Anne said, scratching her head.

Aragon laughed loudly. “You don’t even know!”

“Okay, Miss I-Know-How-To-Paint! Let’s see what you made!”

“Gladly!”

Aragon led them over to her easel and showed them the crown-wearing lioness she had painted. She smirked proudly.

“Damnit, that is good.” Anne muttered. 

“Told you!” Aragon said.

“I guess your only talents aren’t singing and being religious, after all.

“You— Shut up!”

“G-guys...?”

Aragon and Anne stopped their playful bickering to look at Joan, who was suddenly very worryingly pale. She had one hand pressed to her temple and the other outstretched like she was trying to keep her balance. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead. She stumbled backwards and then began to keel forward. Aragon leapt forward as fast as lightning to catch her, and Anne was close behind.

“Joan? Joan, what’s wrong?” Aragon said.

Joan doesn’t answer, just makes a strangled noise. She curled into a tight ball on the floor, clutching at her head.

“Joan?” Anne tried. She set a hand on the girl’s side and realIzed she was trembling in exhaustion and pain. “Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

“M-my head,” Joan gasped. 

“Cathy has headaches sometimes,” Anne said, as if that would help.

“Yeah, but at least she doesn’t fall on the floor like this.” Aragon said. She set one hand on Joan’s head and the other on her shoulder. “Joan, baby? Can we do anything to help?”

Joan didn’t answer, but her hand did shoot out and grab onto one of Anne’s. She laced their fingers together and then pressed them back to her temple, with her hand against the skin. She dug her knuckles in. The position was a little awkward, but she was too deep in a pain-daze to realize and Anne didn’t really care as long as Joan was content with it.

“Joan, it’s Catherine and Anne.” Aragon said, thinking that this may have been some kind of PTSD episode. “There’s nobody here who’s going to hurt you. You’re safe, I promise.”

“No,” Joan wept. Her voice was raspy and watery. “Ow ow ow ow...!”

She writhed for a moment and then balled up even tighter. She pressed her temples harder, like she was trying to hold the headache at bay. A loud sob escaped her lips.

They all sit on the floor for a long time in total helplessness. Aragon and Anne murmur to Joan, trying to reassure her, while she cries against the hardwood floor. Then, all of a sudden, she speaks in the most frail voice the queens have ever heard come out of a human being.

“Anne,” She croaked. “Anne?” 

“I’m right here, darling.” Anne squeezed Joan’s hand and gently touched her face with her free one. 

“Can you—go make me a cup of coffee?”

Anne is almost startled into laughing. “Joan, this hardly seems like the time for-“

“JUST DO IT!!” Joan shrieked.

Anne and Aragon both jumped, not used to being yelled at, especially by a lady in waiting. Anne nodded quickly, then scrambled out of the room.

Joan takes a few deep breaths, but they do little to aid the state she’s in. She rolled over until she was lying flat on her back and stared up at the ceiling. Her eyes were like arctic pools.

“O-one, t-two, th-three, f-four...”

Aragon realized she was counting the stars painted on the ceiling. She then wondered if this room hadn’t just been made for fun or out of boredom, but for the purpose of being a safe haven for Joan’s anxiety. She also wondered if Joan would lie on the floor before it was finished and just cry herself into unconsciousness or do something else to cope.

“S-seventeen— Why isn’t it working?” Joan sobbed miserably. She pounded her fists against the ground and scrunched her eyes shut. Tears fell in little streams of melted silver down her temples.

Aragon can’t watch this anymore. It’s much too heartbreaking. She finally decides to lie next to Joan and stare up at the ceiling with her.

“What do you see, Joan?” She asked softly.

“Pain.” Joan answered, just as soft.

“What does that look like?”

“It’s really bright.” Joan whispered. “It just—flashes. In my head. There’s— canvas. Give me a canvas.”

“Joan—”

“GIVE IT TO ME!” Joan howled and Aragon grabbed the closest canvas to her, along with a few paints. 

Joan barely had the strength to paint, but the end result is starbursts of silver and needles of black and flashes of white and whorls of jet and stars of stone and streaks of ash and flames of slate all on a charcoal background. It was a mishmash of pure madness, and Aragon swore her own head started to hurt just looking at the mess of a painting.

“It hurts,” Joan forced out through gritted teeth. She dropped her paintbrush and grabbed her head, arching her spine as if she had been struck by lightning. “Think about rain, think about rain, think about rain...”

Aragon laid down next to her again. “Think about rain?” She echoed.

“Th-the rain—it helps me think. I try to put all the voices I hear into each droplet and focus on my own thoughts.” Joan stammered weakly. “I-it’s what I do during the show. I-it’s so loud—I have to! I’m sorry...”

“Shh,” Aragon hushed her gently. “I understand. I’m not offended. Just...think about the rain. Shall I name some things?” Joan nodded. “Alright… The smell of rain, the sound of it hitting the rooftop and windows, droplets blowing in the wind, thunder, lightning…”

“Mist,” Joan whispered.

“Mist, that’s right. Good girl.” 

As Aragon began to list things off again, Joan felt the queen slip her hand into one of her own and then heard Anne enter again, but she’s already submerged herself into a midnight rainstorm. 

Twenty minutes soon pass. Joan finally opened her eyes (she hadn’t even realized they were open) and took in a shaky breath. Anne and Aragon both look at her.

“Joan?” Anne gently touched her shoulder. “Darling? Are you with us?”

“I-I think so,” Joan whispered weakly. “I’m with you...” She had to close her eyes again, clearly not completely recovered from whatever had washed over her, but soon opened them again and tried to sit up. Aragon assists her. Anne passed her the cup of coffee after she was situated (she even had a fluffy blanket around her shoulders to try and tame the shivers wracking through her body; Anne had grabbed it from the living room when she was making the coffee).

“Joan, I don’t want to push you, baby, but we need to know what just happened.” Aragon said gently.

Joan nodded and stared dejectedly into her cup of coffee. She took a sip, not caring that it was scalding, then began hoarsely, “I thought it had to do with my caffeine addiction at first. If I didn’t drink coffee, then I would get really dizzy and have these bad headaches. But then it started happening even with three cups. I don’t know what it is. It’s not a panic attack—maybe an anxiety attack? I don’t know.”

“Is that why you fainted earlier?” Anne asked.

Joan nodded again. “Yes.” Her face crumpled and fresh tears ran down her cheeks. “I’m s-sorry for lying. I-I didn’t want you guys to l-leave. I know you said you wouldn’t, b-but you never know. I never have visitors. I’m so l-lonely. I-I didn’t want to ruin my chances at f-finally having friends...” She dipped her head and sobbed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know why it happens. I-I’m just—messed up.”

At that, Anne and Aragon both leap forward and wrap that crying girl in their arms. She practically melts in their touch, now sobbing harder.

“If you think this is going to make us think any different of you, then you’re wrong,” Aragon said and Anne nodded. “We want to help you. So, whenever you’re ready, tell us more about this. Let us know what to look for and what’s the best way to comfort you.”

“Thank you,” Joan whispered. “Thank you so much...”

It was so sad to know such an amazing girl didn’t regularly get the care she needed, but Anne and Aragon both wanted to change that. That’s why they were there when nobody else was.

It took a few more minutes for Joan to fully calm down, but she was eventually completely relaxed in the arms of two protective queens. She looked up at them blearily and they smiled at her lovingly.

“Pretty girl,” Aragon cooed, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“I do believe we were promised a movie.” Anne said after she kissed Joan’s other temple (and turned the girl into a blushing puddle in their arms).

“Y-you still wanna do that?” Joan asked shyly.

“Of course!” Anne said and Aragon nodded eagerly. Joan smiled.

“I’m— That makes me really happy.” The girl said.

With the help of Anne and Aragon, Joan climbed to her feet. They all walk out of the art room, but not without Anne taking one last look at her canvas and exclaiming, “IT WAS A GREYHOUND!!”

Aragon and Joan burst out into laughter.


End file.
